Page 60 of Forced Bratva Wife

My blood hummed, my pulse skyrocketing, and I forced myself to take three deep breaths.

Clear your head. Come on, Parker. Think critically. It’s just another puzzle of the human condition. You can do this.

Eyeing the cracks in the floor like they might save me from this mental block, I considered what I knew about this situation. Lev wouldn’t enter until he saw me. He’d need to be reassured that I was all right. Me not being in this chair would tip him off to something, and he’d back away.

So, getting out of it was crucial.

I had one arm free. Just one. But I also had a weapon in the form of a chair if these assholes came over to me. Why would they come over to me?

My brain churned and churned. It was taking too long. Lev was going to be here any minute, and—

“Unharmed.”

My voice was a bit too loud with realization, and I heard the man from before grunt as my voice echoed slightly. He was coming over. Okay, it’s now or never.

Putting on my best face of panic, one I was at least familiar with, I faked hyperventilation, breathing frenzied gasps as I screamed about it all being too much.

“Ah! I can’t.” Huff, huff, huff. “You can’t! Don’t do this!”

Huff, huff, and now, pass out.

I slumped in the chair, playing very much the role of a damsel in distress who’d just had too much and fainted. With my eyes shut, I focused on the sound approaching me, hoping to time my actions perfectly.

“Oh, Christ. What the hell is all this, then?”

The Irishman from before shuffled over and then, unknowingly, made my plans work out even better.

“Get to the front door for the drop. I’ll bring sleeping beauty.”

I heard the sounds of several pairs of boots hitting the floor as they walked away, closer to that front door I’d noticed from my chair. The douchenozzle in charge of me was almost there—almost in range.

Come on, come on. Hurry up, you bastard.

When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I shot up from the chair as fast and hard as I could. My shoulder launched into the guy’s jaw, and the pain of smashing into him ricocheted through my arm. I didn’t let it slow me down, though. I wasn’t finished.

“Fucking hell!”

The guy had flung backward, and as I took in his position a few steps away, I pulled the chair up into a large arch, soaring it through the air right at the asshole’s face.

I had to use both arms to swing it effectively, and as it collided with him, the zip tie on my wrist pulled. Like a fucking pitcher, I followed through with the chair even as the legs got hung up on the Irishman’s arms, his loud grunt signaling a good impact. It was enough force to tear the plastic from the leg, the restraint slipping from my lacerated skin and falling to the floor.

It hurt like a bitch, and the laceration on my forearm was ugly. It wouldn’t cause any lasting damage, though. The sound of clattering metal was a bit too loud for my liking, so once I confirmed he was down, mentally noting the head trauma and potentially dislocated jaw, I ran off toward the back of the building.

My footsteps were a blur as I ran with everything I had. The door at the back of this stupid warehouse was straight ahead. I just had to make it there. Unfortunately for me, a few straggling thugs had been posted at this end, and they heard me running.

Deception was the name of the game right now, so I slowed and collapsed to the floor. The two men hurried over, going on about how they couldn’t lose their leverage. When they were close, I shot up again, landing two consecutive punches to their tracheae.

Direct blows to the windpipe were hard for anyone to manage, the trauma causing immediate airway distress, and they each fell back coughing. Thank God for A&P Class, assholes.

Pulling myself up off the dingy floor, I started to run for the back wall again. One of the men snaked a handout and grabbed my foot. I tumbled forward, the cement impacting my knee and busting it open. Kicking backward like a damn mule, I smashed my foot into the guy’s face as hard as I could, and he let me go.

His nose gushed with blood, likely broken, and a thread of relief filled me. Dealing with a broken nose and blunt force to the trachea would slow the fucker up pretty nicely.

Up and running again, blood trickled down my knee, the warmth strange compared to the cold air around me, and it occurred to me how close I was to potential hypothermia. The warehouse was decidedly lacking in any form of heat, and I wasn’t dressed for a Chicago winter day.

“You were too worked up to notice.”

But I knew I wouldn’t last out in here like this. Approaching the far wall, I ran alongside it, desperately searching for some type of door or something.

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